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Apocalypse
June 1, 2016
The sky is a smudge of sea salt
And oxidized blood that oozes
Over the landscape
It smells of cracked sea shells
And broken bones and
The death that's written
In the broiling firmament
Is beautiful;
It tells of angels falling,
Black wings crackling with unfurled
Embers and fire-rimmed eyes;
Their voices will seep smoke when they speak.
The ocean sings a melancholy melody
To assure the sea gulls their
Crackers will be there tomorrow
© Kaitlin B., Norwell, MA
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